The Laughter From Life Itself
by Kristal-Dynamite
Summary: We ask a lot of questions when somebody close dies. Most of these questions are rhetorical, and by now we should know that rhetorically questioning life itself, only summons the adventurous side of life. Life thinks it's fun to make bad situations worse... Life knows exactly how to destroy Luke. (One-Shot)


**The Laughter From Life Itself**

 **\- This is a Luke/Nick pairing, don't like then don't read! ;)**

 **\- If you enjoy, please leave a review because I love hearing about what you guys think! :)**

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That damn wind turbine was a source of hope, but now is the reason for death.

Some may argue that Carver and the gang would've shown up eventually, which is true, but Luke didn't want to believe it. It wasn't like Carver killed Nick himself... A stray walker got to him, and why? Because of the damn wind turbine that's why.

But it didn't matter.

Life will always make ones day worse after they rhetorically ask if it could get any worse. However, in the apocalypse, you don't need to be rhetorical and question life... When bad things happen, they get worse.

Could life get any worse? Does this shit ever end? The answer, yes. Yes it can, says life. And if William Carver is the biggest problem anyone can think of, then they haven't met life itself...

When somebody dies, you question. You scream and shout until the words become so repetitive you wonder if they serve meaning anymore.

When somebody dies, most of the time you lash out on the person who caused the death.

But who was Luke to run to? Who was Luke to run and kill, hacking away with his machete until the persons physical identity was unrecognisable?

The stray walker?

Walter?

Carver?

The damn wind turbine?!

Or do you blame life itself? Because after all, life had changed itself not more than two years back. Something about life caused the dead to rise and the living to go insane as hardcore surviving was simply unnatural to the basic human lifestyle...

But for some reason, Luke couldn't be bothered with blaming others anymore. No matter how important of a person he lost, he wanted to spend their last moments saying goodbye, telling them that they'll meet again soon. Not going on a rampage, weapons out and cursing to the sky like there was no tomorrow.

"WALTER, HELP HIM!" Luke had screamed in desperation as he tackled his own personal walker.

The female walker was tough and most defiantly hungry for meat, as she bit down angrily on the metal of the machete's blade. She growled in annoyance as Luke continued to wiggle the blade inside her mouth, trying to pull the blasted weapon free.

From the corner of Luke's eye, he could see that Walter was still considering his options. Shoot walker? Shoot Nick? Flee?

The anger within Luke's stomach had heated further as he finally managed to thrust his weapon out of the walkers throat. "HELP HIM!" Luke yelled once again, checking to see that Nick was still indeed tackling his walker with his bare hands, eyes wide open and panicked.

Meanwhile, Walter considered for another moment, until his once kind eyes had drew themselves to the ground and he lowered his gun. Without any indication, he turned on his heel and fled, fulfilling one of the three options that swarmed his mind moments ago.

Luke didn't know that Walter had disappeared until he heard what sounded like a groan of victory from Nick's walker, followed by teeth sinking into flesh and cries of excruciating pain and defeat from his friend, and what could've been partner.

Something clicked in Luke's mind at that precise moment. It wasn't, _Nick needs help..._

It was, _Nick is dead._

Before his eyes could water at the thought, Luke focused on getting to Nick as soon as possible. Crimson blood dripped from his blade, and this blood wasn't going to be cleaned just yet...

Luke held his machete up high, waited for the walker to make it's last step back towards him, and aimed.

Only a mere second later, the walker silenced, and it's knees crumpled beneath itself. Luke's machete was embedded horizontally in the walkers skull and momentarily, the victory felt good.

Nick's cries was still ringing in Luke's ears, and without second thought, he tore away his blade from the walkers decaying head and bolted to his next, already dead victim.

It happened so fast. Luke had thrown himself into the walker, grabbing it by it's waist and rugby tackling it to the ground. Fortunately, it's teeth had unlatched themselves from Nick's body and the walker cried in defeat. It was like stealing food from a child.

Although Luke hadn't the time to see the state of Nick, wrath built up quick nevertheless. He would lash out on life later... For now, it was this particular walker he would pour out his anger to.

He screamed louder than Nick did when being eaten. He threw a punch at the rotting face harder than he'd ever punched before. His knuckles let out a echoing crack and his knew he must've broken something in his hand. The machete then took its turn.

Crimson blood was not going to be cleaned just yet...

Luke hacked away at the walkers neck, face and most importantly, it's head. He screamed curses loud enough for people miles away to hear, yet the words were still inaudible. His eyes watered, his vision blurred as he knew what he would have to face once he was finished with this particular walker.

Nick's quiet moans somehow rang like alarm bells in Luke's ears, and he finally stopped.

Leaving the machete sticking up vertically out of what was left of the walkers head, Luke turned around and shakily stood up; trying to act quick even though his body lacked the energy.

Nick was sprawled out amongst the dirt, his breathing heavy as he gasped for air. He looked as if he was trying to calm his uncontrollable quick breaths, however the shock and the pain was not helping him do so. Blood seeped from his right shoulder and near the base of his neck; teeth marks were visible.

Luke could only stare for a few moments before he dropped down to the ground beside Nick and held the sides of the other mans face, tears flowing but only making quiet sounds of pain as Nick grunted and breathed heavily, eyes watering also.

"Nick..." Luke finally managed to utter, the words now so quiet compared to the frantic screaming moments ago.

Nick looked directly into Luke's tear-filled brown eyes. He wanted to smile, tell his friend that it was going to be okay, but it wasn't. He knew he was dead, but worse of all was that he couldn't spend the rest of his days with Luke, the one he was so close to telling about his unstoppable growing feelings.

"I...I don't, I don't what to do, Nick!" Luke cried out, letting out a loud sob as he did so. His own tears landed on Nick's cheeks, causing Nick to let out more of his own. He whimpered softly now, as the pain started to numb and the shock didn't seem to stab him constantly in the chest.

"You-you've do-done e-enough..." Nick stuttered, winching slightly as talking seemed to trigger more pain in his bleeding shoulder.

"No, no I haven't Nick! Please, please just _stay_ with me!" Luke begged, accidentally gripping too hard on the sides of Nick's face and shaking the dying man slightly. His shoulder spurted out more blood and Nick was going paler as time progressed.

Nick knew that what Luke wanted, wasn't happening. He gave a sad smile. It was the most he could do without feeling anymore physical or mental pain.

Luke tried to give a reassuring smile in return, however he was currently drowning in his own tears, not thinking about much other than what life would be like without Nick. The thought was more painful than watching Nick die in front of him. Luke sobbed more. Keeping himself together now seemed simply impossible.

Nick coughed rather painfully, blood now running down from his bottom lip as he shivered in the early Winter's wind.

His blue eyes focused on Luke's brown ones and he spoke, quietly...

"I-I lov-love you, Luke..." and before the words could even process into Luke's mind, Nick's shaking stilled and the amount of blood coming out of his shoulder lessened. His glassy eyes were fixed upon Luke's and his warm skin became cooler and emptier. Emptier from life.

Luke stopped sobbing as he stared into what used to be a lively pool of blue. His fingers trembled against the hollow skin and he hiccupped once before letting another wet tear fall onto the empty face. The world silenced and for a moment, Luke thought he had died as well...

"No, no, no, no..." he muttered under his breath, his sight of Nick fading as his eyes became cloudier.

"Why? Why? Why?" he questioned, breath hitching as he repeated the words to no one in particular. But it was at that moment when Luke knew full well he was speaking to someone. Life...

Luke tore his gaze away from Nick's body and stared up into the night sky. He took and intake of breath before screaming, "WHY HIM?! WHY DO YOU TAKE HIM?! I HAVE NOTHING! I HAVE NOTH-" Luke couldn't scream anymore, his throat gave in. But he didn't care that he screamed...

Although he wanted answers, he knew he couldn't get them. That would then make his cries of anguish, rhetorical questions. And Luke knew that asking these sort of questions would only prove a challenge for life itself. It _will_ get worse.

Yet again, what was to come didn't matter to Luke.

The worse of all things to happen, was loosing Nick. And now that had happened, nothing could compare.

Luke calmed his hiccups and shudders after a few minutes and looked down to the last of Nick's face before he turned. (After all, he didn't have a gun and he needed to get out of here quick before Carver found him.)

"I love you too, Nick."

And with those final and most painful words, Luke placed a light kiss onto Nick's still warm lips. He could taste Nick, he could taste the man that went through hell alongside him. He could taste the last of Nick...

Nick would have to turn and Luke didn't want to see. He stood up, grabbed his machete and ran towards the forest.

Luke continued to run, he didn't turn back.

There was nothing for him anymore, no sound other than than the laughter from life itself.


End file.
